Red Revival
by Alkuna
Summary: Four survived; four of the deadliest cats ever raised from a torn and tragic kithood. A prophecy spoke of the greatest sacrifice ever made, and the loss of one that will lead to the destruction of an entire clan. Are things as dark and terrible as they seem? Or is this terrible, twisted prophecy a way bring new hope and new life to what was lost?
1. Chapter 1

"_You will have two kits. Both female. And they will be culled unless you get away."_

Silver jerked awake, trying to escape from the terrible whispered words that echoed again and again in her dreams. She couldn't 'get away.' She couldn't even hunt for herself. Females stayed in camp all of their lives unless they were escorted by a tom. Those treacherous thoughts would lead to nothing but trouble.

Shivering as the words still echoed between her ears, she crept through the shadows to the dirtplace. If only she could bury those words the way she buried dirt…

Her dark silver fur seemed to have lost its beautiful gloss. No light reflected on her pelt and it felt like she was part of the shadows. She squeezed carefully into the stinky place, and her tail was just inside when she heard the padding of paws beyond the screen of bushes.

"…in two or three days." Badgerheart, the clan's Enforcer rumbled in his harsh and grating voice.

Silver's ears twitched and she locked onto the quiet conversation happening only a tail length from the entrance of the dirt place.

"Very well. We shall inspect all of the kits when she gives birth. We have too many she-cats. If Silver's kits are female, we will…deal with them." That was Bane, the clan leader.

"And if Silver objects?" Badgerheart asked coolly.

"Cull her too, of course."

Silver's breathing was suddenly too fast. It was one thing to hear words in dreams, where things were not real. It was another to hear her own leader plainly state that it was time for another bloody ritual in the name of Rancor Law. And Badgerheart… Silver swallowed painfully. It squeezed her heart to hear her brother speak so casually about his own kin's upcoming death.

Later, she would not be able to say what she had been thinking, other than the overwhelming need to be away. She did not think of the dangers that awaited her outside the clan. She did not think of how she would get food. She did not think of what the Clan Rancor toms would do when they found her gone. There were only two words echoing again and again, in the voice of the Ancestor she had never seen, but only heard.

"Get away."

"Get away!"

.

Silver huddled in her hiding place, filthy water soaking her up to the middle of her ribs. Her frantic, terrified breathing echoed back and forth around her until it sounded like several cats panted in fear with her. In a way, they did. One of the kits in her belly gave a wriggle, as though sensing her mother's terror.

"Her scent leads in here," Badgerheart sounded pleased, and she could imagine the blood lust flaring in his eyes as he said it.

"You think a she-cat would hide in a place like this?" Sneered Blackfog; he was the father of Silver's kits, but not through any real love of the queen.

"Do you want to be the one to wriggle through the muck to prove Badgerheart wrong? No? Then shut up. I'll deal with this. It's my duty as her brother, after all." That was Quickclaw. The light at the end of the tunnel was briefly blotted out as a large, powerful tom slid into the entrance of the half flooded tunnel. "Don't follow, and don't distract me: this stuff makes footing treacherous."

Silver swallowed and slid back slowly and carefully until she was pressed against one of the walls, with only the dried remains of some sort of plant to screen her. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"I know you're here, dear sister." Quickclaw hissed, "You might as well come out. Better to let me kill you now than to be dragged back to be killed before the clan."

"I won't go back." Silver's voice was quiet. "I'd rather die, alone out here, than among the cats that used to be my clan."

"You could have lived." He was coming closer, the scant cover of the plant seeming to cover less and less of her as he did, "So too could your kits, if they were valuable toms." His eyes were glittering green fire, but held no warmth. "Now you've doomed yourself, and them."

"I had a dream. An ancestor told me my kits would have been female, and that they would be culled. They had no life. And I couldn't bear to let the clan end their tiny lives, simply because we had too many females."

He leaped, smashing through the brittle twigs like a badger tears through stalks of grass. His dark fur seemed to be blacker than a fox's heart as he pinned her down. "Ancestors don't talk to females!" he snarled. "Your lies would corrupt the clan and destroy us all! I must put an end to this before you poison us all!" He raised a paw, soiled claws gleaming in the dim light as he prepared to strike her down.

Desperation lent Silver strength, and she kicked out with both hind paws. By some miracle, she caught the powerful tom by surprise and he yowled in shock before pitching backward, and vanishing into the muck.

The dazed queen stared. There must be a hole on the other side of the room, she realized, hidden beneath the surface of the filthy water.

Coughing, spluttering and thrashing, her brother broke the surface and splashed clumsily back toward his sister, and solid ground.

"They were going to kill my kits, Quickclaw!" Silver poised herself carefully at the edge of the hole by using her paws to check for the brink. "Kits that would be your kin, females or no females. My daughters. I need to live, and so do they."

A flash of alarm darted through his eyes, "So you would drown me? To keep them safe, you would trap me in this pit until I drown?"

Silver stared at him, emotions chasing one another through her eyes in the span of two heartbeats: sorrow, determination, desperation, and finally… resignation. "No, brother. You may be willing to murder your own kin, but I am not."

She sprang away and grabbed the end of a branch, dragging it over and swinging it out to him. A strange silvery light seemed to blaze around her, "I extend this branch to you," her voice sounded strange, strong, and not at all like a properly submissive female. "Take it or do not, but understand what it is I offer beyond the branch itself."

Quickclaw's eyes widened, then he seized the branch with both front paws. He could feel himself being hauled through the water to the edge as though he were nothing more than a kit.

His paws came to rest on solid ground and he simply stood and gasped as the filthy water sloshed around his paws and streamed from his fur. He would not look at her. Not even when he heard the branch being dropped and felt the warmth of her body coming close to him. As he breathed, her scent wafted to him. Delicate, female, and achingly familiar.

It was strange. For a flash, a memory sprang in his mind; he was nursing at his mother's side, and a strange emotion washing through his tiny body. He'd scented his sister, even before his eyes had opened. Her scent made him feel strong, and protective, and whenever his older brother tried to shove his sister aside to nurse first, Quick had shoved back and stood strong while his little sister huddled in his shadow.

"I want a chance to live. I will never return to the clan. I will go away. Far away. But at least our family will have the chance to exist." Her voice was very soft, almost pleading with him. The strength was gone and she sounded as weak and female as she always did.

The memory bothered him. When had he lost that part of himself?

"When you die, you will not join the Clan Rancor ancestors." His voice was a dark warning.

She lifted her chin for a heartbeat, "You say that as if I would want to."

This made him whip around to stare at her in shock. His mouth was open but no words were coming out.

"Quickclaw? What happened?" Badgerheart's harsh voice echoed to him through the tunnel, almost too distorted to understand.

Silver sucked in a breath and tensed, her eyes wide and her pupils dilated in terror.

Anger roared through his veins at the thought of his sister's life being extinguished beneath Baderheart's terrible claws. Before the plan was completely formed in his brain, he rolled in the sloppy, rank smelling water to wash any trace of his sister's scent from his fur. "There's a big pit in here!" he snarled, "I fell right into it! I thought her scent went down one of the tunnels, but now I can't smell anything!"

Turning toward his sister he stared at her for a heartbeat, as though drinking in the sight of her for the last time. "We may call upon the Red Claws. Make sure you're gone before then." He whispered, his gaze turning hard and unyielding.

"Fine," growled Badgerheart voice, "Then I'll come in and sniff her out myself."

"Don't bother," Quickclaw snapped, shoving himself into the tunnel so he blocked the way in, "She's not here, the footing is treacherous, and it looks like the tunnels get tight in here. I've had enough of this place. Let someone else hunt that stupid female down. If she doesn't starve to death on her own, there are plenty of Rogues, foxes, hawks and badgers willing to finish the job…" his voice grew too distorted then for Silver to understand but she knew he was warning her the best way he could.

The queen closed her eyes and sent a rush of love toward her brother's disappearing tail in the hope that somehow he could feel it. Then she turned down another tunnel and padded through it, in the opposite direction of her pursuers. Quickclaw was right of course. Badgerheart liked all lose ends tied up, nice and neat and bloody.

It was best if she didn't stay here.

.

It was a wet Newleaf day, but prey was active and plentiful, the wind was warm and even the light, constant drizzle failed to drop the temperatures more than a few degrees.

Quickclaw, Blackfog and Badgerheart wove carefully through the trees, each carrying a choice bit of prey.

"Where are they?" Blackfog groused around the rabbit in his jaws. "You would think the Red Claws would challenge us for entering their territory by now. We're practically in the heart of their territory."

"That's not the way they work," Badgerheart growled bluntly, "We take the food into the heart of the territory, set it down, and wait."

A pair of blue eyes, deep in the shadows afforded by the lush green leaves above the forest floor, watched their passage. With the flick of a paw, the owner sent three leaves fluttering down to the trespassers below.

"So, they don't patrol their borders, they let total strangers wander around at will, and don't even attack when they sit right in the middle of their territory?" Quickclaw wasn't as critical as Blackfog of this strange revelation, but even he felt confusion capering about between his ears. "So, help me understand, Badgerclaw. Could we enter the territory, do whatever we want here, and leave at our leisure without them ever knowing?"

Three leaves fluttered down from the treetops and tapped each cat on the nose one after the other on their way to the forest floor. An annoyed Blackfog snorted the leaf away. Quickclaw blinked, surprised that three random leaves could hit each of them by chance on the softly shifting breezes that wove through the trees. Badgerheart's eyes narrowed fractionally and he simply turned his head and let the leaf flutter away.

"Don't be tick brained," Badgerheart snapped, finally coming to a stop and putting down his plump bird in a shallow dip in the ground. "Don't you get it? They knew we were here the instant we left our territory. They've been stalking us, listening and watching, the entire time."

"Even across the open field? Come on Badgerheart, we would have seen something. Scented something." Blackfog snorted.

"Are you sure about that?" Badgerheart narrowed his eyes fractionally and looked at his two clanmates. "Would you bet your life on it?"

Quickclaw dropped his squirrel and spun in a circle, trying to spot something, anything in the underbrush. There was no sound, no scent, not hint that anything lived in this forest but birds and other prey creatures. The only thing he could smell was pine sap and various plants.

"I don't feel like I'm being hunted." Blackfog muttered dismissively, dropping his rabbit and rolling his eyes.

"Um," said Quickclaw. "Where'd my squirrel go?"

"I feel like you're playing a prank on me like I'm a kit and the Red Claws are really some spooky story told to make me behave." Blackfog ignored his clan mate's attempt to interject.

"Blackfog, did you move the rabbit?" Quickclaw's voice quavered.

"I swear Badgerheart, if you start laughing at me, I will call Challenge right here, right now. Look around! There's _nobody_ here."

"Our prey is _gone_!" Quickclaw thrust himself between the two cats in a desperate bid to be heard.

"And that," Badgerheard meowed, sweetly as honey, "Is why they're so feared, even by our clan."

Blackfog blinked stupidly at the dip. "That's not funny. Which of you did it? I was watching Badgerheart the entire time. Quickclaw? Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Oh yeah, because I'm laughing so hard right now! Fox breath!" Quickclaw put his ears back.

"What did you call me?" Blackfog shoved his face into Quickclaw's, teeth bared to the gums.

"Honestly," came a new voice, silky as Newleaf grass ticking a kit's belly, "If this is how Clan Rancor members act nowadays, perhaps it is falling apart. Perhaps there is blood on the grass, hmm? Do I smell… weakness?"

Blackfog jumped and whipped around, struggling to see anyone, or anything close enough to him to be the owner of that silky voice.

The trees left a dappled pattern on the mulch that made up the forest floor, but that was all that seemed to be nearby. The nearest bush was several fox lengths away.

Then a pair of green eyes opened a tail length from Blackfog's paws and the forest floor seemed to _move_! The dappled shadows slid and caressed the stranger's body, which was a ghostly gray in color. His most striking feature were his eyes. No spot, bar or stripe marred his body. As such, whether sun or shadow hit it, his fur took on the exact pattern as the rest of the forest; either lighting up to the same brilliant white of the sun spots, or the dark, colorless gray of the shadows. Long, silky fur was fluffed in the gentle breeze, breaking up his outline like wisy, gently waving fog.

"Hello Ghost." Badgerheart's voice was perfectly calm as his other two companions tightened ranks at his shoulders. "Please forgive my clan mates. We've had a… bit of a rough morning."

"So we… smelled." Ghost turned his emotionless green eyes upon Quickclaw, who still bore evidence of his unpleasant dunking.

Quickclaw grimaced. The drizzling rain seemed to have done nothing but keep the muck fresh and smelly on his fur. Badgerheart hadn't even let him rinse off in a stream, demanding instead that they hunt prey and immediately go to the Red Claw's territory.

"So, you approve of our offering?" Badgerheart asked rhetorically. It was obvious that it had been accepted, since the prey was gone and one of the Red Claws was talking to him.

Ghost merely flicked his tail. "So… what favor do you seek from us?"

"A member of our clan has defied our laws and fled. She needs to be hunted down, and punishment meted out." Blackfog spat.

Ghost blinked lazily, as though the vehement declaration bored him thoroughly. "And in return?"

"Clan Rancor has agreed to allow the Red Claws use of our stream and the prey in it for a full moon." Badgerheart replied calmly.

"Out of curiosity," Ghost asked blandly, "How exactly could your clan stop us from doing that anyway, if that was what we really wanted?"

There was silence for a long moment. Badgerheart merely continued to stare at the Red Claw. "It is what I am offering, without the trouble that would come with coming in uninvited."

Finally, Ghost shrugged, "Well, I certainly don't know what 'trouble' you could be referring to. None of your clan members are capable of being 'trouble' to any of us. As I recall, we taught you cats a proper lesson the last time you mouthy, hot headed, fur balls thought to pick a fight. How is the little ringleader of that escapade by the way? He seemed to be in a rather bad way last we saw of him."

"Crippled, useless to the clan, and culled immediately, as you well know! And three more were wounded so badly they were unable to hunt for moons! And then! And then you somehow lured our most skilled fighter into the grass and flat out killed him! I don't even know how you pulled that off! But somehow you did! But you know all this!" Blackfog stepped forward aggressively and glowered into Ghost's bored face.

Quickclaw snatched at his clan mate's tail in a desperate effort to stop him from doing something stupid.

"Why would you ask that unless you wanted to…" Blackfog trailed off, realizing that the Red Claw had brought up that painful defeat simply because it was a humiliation, and because he wanted to rub their noses in the fact that they couldn't take out a few measly Rogues. Blackfog finished with a wordless snarl of fury.

"Is that so?" Ghost meowed. He showed no fear of Blackfog's seething anger, nor did he look pleased, or even triumphant at having antagonized the tom. He sounded like a lazy she-cat after hearing a fascinating, new bit of gossip and nothing more. "My, my. Well with luck, such 'misunderstandings' can be avoided in the future then hmm?" He rose unhurriedly, gave a short leap to the base of a tree and glided up the trunk.

Quickclaw released Backfog's tail. "Don't ever do that again! Don't you remember? There are four of them! There's only three of us!"

"There was only one of him, and I-" Blackfog's jeer was cut short by Badgerheart's cuff to the back of the head.

"And you would have been killed the second you actually tried to lay your paws on him." The Enforcer snarled. "Three of them are known to me, and only because I have been trying to salvage the relationship between us and them ever since that pack of stupid hunters got it into their heads to prove our clan's strength. No cat in living memory has ever seen the fourth!"

"Do… do you know their names?" Quickclaw asked.

"You've met Ghost. His full name is Ghost Of a Chance. Very appropriate, and you've already seen what he can do. Otter In Darkness is a dark brown all over. Pale green eyes. Likes to explode out of holes or out of the river and drag his victims where they can't be easily rescued. Gives him plenty of time to do whatever he wants with them."

Quickclaw swallowed. There was only one thing to do with a victim trapped in water or beneath the ground.

"Then there's Mist Over Stone Teeth. I hear he earned that name by pitching an enemy over a waterfall and onto the deadly stone teeth at the base. He strikes and then flees before he can be caught. His victims rarely rise from the blow he deals." Badgerheart licked a paw and ran it over one ear.

"And the fourth?" Quickclaw asked.

"No one has seen or met this cat. No one knows what they look like or what they do. I've only heard the name once: Lightning That Strikes at Night."

"So, four toms living all the way out here, a deadly fighting force that defeated a patrol of clan warriors? Impressive." Blackfog mused.

Quickclaw's fur prickled. Blackfog had immediately assumed that the fourth was a tom. But _he_ hadn't missed the strange way Badgerheart had failed to just state the gender of the fourth. Could it be? Could one of the Red Claws be a she-cat? Raised and trained to fight?

The thought sent emotions roiling through the tom's skull. Everything he had been raised on said that females were weak, useless in battle or hunting, and only good for raising kits. But… no one ever claimed that there were only three Red Claws. Everyone knew there were four, despite never seeing the mysterious fourth member. And… a she cat? It would explain why she was never seen. Clan Rancor would do more than send a patrol to strike against the quartet. All four of them would be hunted by every tom in Clan Rancor, and the fighting female declared an abomination. She would be killed, and the other three with her for allowing her to fight.

But if females could fight, could hunt, could be just as good as any tom… if elsewhere, beyond the clan, she-cats lived lives free of dominating toms, free to be fierce and strong…

The thought send a shiver through him that was half fear for daring to think of such things, half thrill at the thought of a she-cat as wild and strong and fierce as an equal, a partner… his sister could be one of them.

Ghost swarmed down the tree trunk, interrupting Quickclaw's thoughts, his eyes amused. "Done telling stories to the little kits?" He purred. "We have decided. Mist has agreed to pursue the she-cat."

Quickclaw stirred briefly but did not open his mouth. Ghost's cool gaze flicked to him and then away. "Mist! Come down, brother, and greet our guests!"

A mottled gray tom dropped out of the cover of the leaves above, and down to the ground next to Blackfog, who jumped and spat. His silver eyes gleamed with dark humor at Blackfog.

"Lead me to her scent trail, please." Mist had a voice that was low and soothing, on the verge of a purr that would send all the females of Clan Rancor flocking to him. It was the kind of voice that would let him get right up close and personal with his target. The kind of voice that gave no hint to the deadly killer within. In a way, his pleasant, purring voice and Ghost's silky voice were two of a kind.

Blackfog scooted a bit farther away, his eyes never leaving the closed expression and darkly humorous silver eyes. He too seemed uncomfortable around Mist.

Badgerheart simply nodded and turned around. The two warriors followed, fur prickling as Mist walked behind them. His paws made no sound on the loam and his gaze wandered around the forest as though curious about everything but the cats he was with.

Quickclaw swallowed, his throat seemingly very dry all of a sudden. What he was about to do was dangerous in so very many ways. He slowed his steps, dropping back to walk by Mist's left shoulder. He struggled with what he wanted to say.

Finally Mist spoke up. "You want to talk to me." It was a statement, not a question.

"Um, well… er… I take it you know Clan Rancor's laws?"

Mist's chuckle was dark, and harsh. "I do indeed."

"Well, um. You... You four live outside them, right?" Quickclaw's fur felt like it was going to twitch right off, and his gut clenched.

He figured that the Red Claws were called that because of the blood they spilled and the lives they ended. And what he was going to ask would be an immediate death sentence if Badgerheart or Blackfog overheard him.

"We aren't bound by your laws." Mist agreed, his silver eyes inscrutable.

"Okay… well… could you… I dunno… That is… She's my sister." He whispered it all in a rush. "She broke Rancor Law, but she's left the clan. Could you… um… judge her according to laws outside of the clan? I'll… I'll do what I can to make it worthwhile to you."

Those alien silver eyes blinked slowly, thoughtfully. Quickclaw could have sworn that they looked… gleeful for half a heartbeat. But then it was gone. "Be very, very careful about asking favors from a Red Claw. We will collect, whether or not it seems to be a reasonable price."

"I... I want her to live happily. I want her to be safe." The words popped out of his mouth before he even realized that he did indeed want Silver to live. What shocked him even more was the pleading note in his voice.

"Fascinating." Mist sounded bored. "Oh look, here we are." He sped up to join the other two toms at the entrance to the tunnel, leaving the Rancor tom behind.

Quickclaw slowed, his heart sinking. Had he just failed? Had he risked everything, uttered the words of treachery, for nothing? These were the Red Claws. They probably took pleasure in killing. And what if they demanded something terrible in return for sparing his sister's life? He turned his back on the group and let an expression of grief and fear spill over his face.

His sister… and her kits… they would not survive without her. If Mist killed her as the Clan decreed, there would be multiple deaths; not just one. And, he realized, he didn't want her daughters to die either, even if they were only she-cats. In silent horror, he realized that one whispered word from the Rancor Ancestors about his treacherous thoughts would end his life too.


	2. Chapter 2

Mist stared into the hole in the ground. It was familiar to him; Clan Rancor didn't know it, but the Red Claws had hidden here long before they had moved to the forest just an hour's trot away. He knew every twist, turn and exit this place had. The deep pool was where Otter had discovered his talent for swimming. The female, Silver, had chosen well to hide here; it would half-flood in the rain, creating a stagnant, foul smelling muck that would wipe out every trace of her scent from all but the most cunning trackers.

He slipped into the dim light of the tunnel without a backward glance and followed it to the cave in the center. The muck had been churned here; even beneath the filthy water, he could trace signs of a tussle with his paws. She had been pounced upon and then… Well well! So she had managed to toss her attacker into the pool had she? Good. If she was completely useless in a fight, this would be a ridiculously short hunt.

His whiskers gave a slow wiggle in pleasure. And there, close to the water's edge, was a faint trace where the queen's fur had brushed the walls when she had initially tried to hide. And here again, a faint scent, almost washed away, on a stick. He had been afraid that this would be an incredibly boring start, but through luck or instinct, the queen had given him the first small challenge.

"I've got her scent," he said coolly as he slid out of the tunnel to face the three Rancor toms, "I will check the exits, and track her down from there."

Quickclaw flinched again, but when he turned around, his expression was as closed as any warrior of the Clan Rancor.

"Here is where my hunt begins, and here is where you return to your clan. When I am done, we will come to claim our reward, and not a moment before. Make sure your clan keeps the agreements it has made with us." Those stony silver eyes settled on each Rancor cat individually, resting just a heartbeat longer on Quickclaw with no give or warmth in them. "We are not forgiving cats."

Something dark and terrible shifted behind those eyes; something that made the air leak out of Quickclaw's lungs. And for what felt like an eternity, he couldn't inhale. He couldn't even put words to the things that those eyes promised, and fear lanced through his heart.

Badgerheart looked unaffected. Either he hadn't caught the look, or he still felt some scrap of superiority over the deadly cat that spoke so sweetly about agreements and rewards. The Enforcer nodded solemnly, calling Blackfog and Quickclaw to him with a wave of his tail. Quickclaw swallowed hard and obeyed his brother, relief making his legs feel watery.

Acting as though he had nothing else on his mind, Mist trotted off to the next nearest exit and sniffed. No scent. He nodded slightly. This one was in the direction of the clan she was trying to escape. He trotted to the next. No scent. It was the third exit, the one leading away from the Clan, which had the she-cat's fresh scent.

"They're gone," came a quiet voice behind him.

"I suspected as much. I don't think they even knew you were there." Mist turned to purr to his sister.

Lightning That Strikes at Night was a spotted tabby with silver fur and bright, sapphire blue eyes. The other two appeared at her shoulder, seeming to simply rise up from the grass.

"You won't believe what I spotted!" Lightning mewed eagerly. "Clan Rancor has a traitor!"

"Quickclaw asked me not to kill his sister." Mist shrugged. "He even tried to bargain with me."

"Yes, but he turned his back on you when you walked away. He's _afraid_ for his sister's safety. I saw his expression. We can use that. We can use _him_!" Lightning bounced in place like an excited kit.

"Slow down," Ghost murmured, though the look in his eyes betrayed his eagerness. "We must step as delicately as if we were stalking a mouse. But you are right, sister. This is the claw hold we've been looking for."

Mist closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "So… it has begun…"

Lightning's eyes flashed, "Yes. It has. I'm going with Mist."

Ghost and Otter shifted worriedly, but said nothing. Purring gently, she touched her nose to each of their cheeks. "I'll be okay. We're going beyond Clan Rancor! They can't hurt me while I'm with Mist."

"Be careful. We don't know if any other clans are any better." Otter warned them.

"We're counting on you both." Ghost meowed. "We'll wait. One moon. Then, we'll all come. Have a place for us by then."

"We'll uphold our end. Will you two be all right?" Sapphire eyes swept over her two brothers worriedly.

"Pfffeehh." Otter hissed, "Don't worry about us. Those mangy Rancor toms won't know what's happening until it's way too late."

"Then let us begin." Ghost narrowed his eyes.

Facing one another, all four raised their right front paws and pressed them together. "As one, they murmured the prophesy, the promise, that the Red Claws had been taught at a mere six moons old.

Clan Rancor shall fall!

Clan Rancor shall fall!

The loss of one shall

Be the defeat of all.

On wind and deadly leap

Through tunnels dark and deep

Our stealth in the night

And mist in light

They will taste defeat's dark blight!

Clan Rancor shall fall!

Clan Rancor shall fall!

The four cats flexed their strong, sharp claws, interlocking them briefly in a nest of deadly points. A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds and illuminated the quartet. And in the strong afternoon sun, their claws glowed a dark cherry red.

.

The wet, drizzling day hadn't cleared up any, and Silver shook her head yet again to scatter drops from the ends of her whiskers. It was impossible to smell anything but wet plants and muddy earth, not that she knew how to check for scents anyway. If she was being pursued by the Red Claws yet, there was no sign.

Hunger wracked her belly and she knew she needed to eat. And soon. Her last meal had been a single, small fish she had managed to trap in the shallows of the stream.

Finally, with a weary sigh, she slid beneath the towering branches of a tree, shook the water out of her fur and tried to dry it out some. This at least, was one skill she knew. The same couldn't be said for feeding herself.

Movement alerted her and she jerked her head up, staring out over the long grass with wide eyes, hoping to identify it. The rain was a fine constant drizzle, with sunshine breaking through at random points, which turned everything hazy with silvery fog. A light breeze made the long grass ripple constantly like the surface of water. She was just about to dismiss it when she saw movement again.

There was a strange cat out there; a silvery she-cat stalking slowly through the open field.

Fascinated, the queen drank in how the stranger seemed to flow like water through the grass. Her mouth opened wide, making the queen tip her head in puzzlement. No screech or cry escaped the silently open mouth. Her body was held low, legs bent to lift her just to the height of the grass, staring intently at something hidden from Silver's line of sight. Then she began to move again; each paw was carefully and lightly placed. Then the stranger froze suddenly, tail twitching and jerking so that her fur buckled and waved just like the grass she was moving through.

She waited an eternal moment then… Silver's mouth dropped open as the strange she-cat gave a leap meant for distance rather than height, and came down on something that uttered a shrill squeak before silence fell. The strange she-cat came up with some sort of rodent in her jaws, shook the rain out of her fur, and padded away from Silver to vanish among the waving blades of grass.

Silver let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding. The stranger either hadn't seen her sitting beneath the tree, or else simply hadn't cared. But now her mind was on fire, going over and over and over how the stranger had carried herself, how she had moved, and how she had leaped upon her prey. She-cats did indeed hunt outside of Clan Rancor! And they fought too, if those muscles flowing beneath her pelt had been anything to go on.

Carefully, Silver slid into the grass, her eyes watching for any stalks of grass that wiggled differently in the breeze.

She slowly lowered herself into a similar position and crept along, pausing once in a while to open her mouth the way the she cat had. She took a breath and then…

The scent of something warm and musky hit the roof of her mouth and made her belly crap with hunger so much that she had to bite back a gasp. Slowly, carefully she followed the scent to its end.

Her first hunt was a failure, but the scent of the mouse and her desperate need for food set her on several more hunts. None of them were successful; she was making a lot of mistakes, and having lived in the nursery all her life left her with few skills. Her legs ached constantly with all this travel and her clumsy bumps, slips and misses left her ego as battered as her body. She eventually gave up and was on the move again not long afterward.

She drank deeply from the stream she had been following for hours now. It was, if nothing else, a source of water that she definitely needed, even if hunting was bad.

A twig cracked behind her.

Silver gasped and jumped. Unfortunately, the movement carried her forward and she toppled straight into the stream. She floundered for several precious seconds, expecting to feel claws slicing through her pelt. But they didn't, and she sat up. Water streamed from her sides and gathered in large drops all along her whiskers.

A silver spotted tabby stood on the bank, frozen in mid step, and blinked down at her with deep blue eyes. A fat bird was gripped in her jaws. The two stared at one another for several heartbeats before the silver tabby put her prey down and spoke.

"Well?" Her whiskers were wiggling in amusement, "Do you like sitting in streams?"

"Uh," Silver replied intelligently. _It's her! The she-cat I saw hunting earlier!_

Up close, the she-cat terrified the queen. Muscles flexed beneath her silvery pelt, speaking of a she-cat with a long history of hunting and fighting behind her. And yet, she didn't have a single scar to mark her the way Rancor toms were marked. This meant she was very, very good at winning with the first blow. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, but they were cool and confident. Even the strange she-cat's body language spoke of deadly confidence. She didn't duck her head, mew submissively, or shrink down to show that she was cowed by…well…anything. She would have been beaten viciously, if not killed in a heartbeat by the first Rancor tom that set his eyes on her. It was as if this rogue didn't fear any cat, tom or otherwise.

And that in itself was both terrifying and thrilling to Silver.

All of this was absorbed in an instant, but it took another heartbeat before her brain worked enough for her to climb out of the water and shake herself off. Water sprayed in all directions and her paws, still wet and slippery, skidded out from under her. Her hind end landed on the ground with a thump.

"You're not very graceful are you?" The she-cat asked. "How do you even hunt like that?"

"I... I don't really know how to hunt. My name is Silver, by the way."

"Call me Lightning. You really don't know how to hunt? Really?" There was a strange… _knowing_… in Lightning's eyes that betrayed her bewildered tone.

"She-cats aren't allowed to hunt. Or fight. We stay in the camp almost all of our lives, other than to take walks under the guard of toms. If we cannot have kits, we are culled. If there are too many female kits, some are culled. And if we dare leave, we are hunted down and culled." Silver's face twisted into a bitter expression.

"That word. 'Culled.' It sounds like…"

"Yes. It means we are killed. Killed for the good of the clan. Killed to keep the clan strong." Silver spat the words out like crowfood.

There was a silence, broken only by the sound of the drizzling rain on the surface of the water..

"Don't you know this already? You being a she-cat and all…" The queen trailed off as Lightning laughed.

"I would shred the ears of every tom who dared to try that with me! What rubbish." The word was spoken with such distain that Silver was struck speechless. "Rubbish, crowfood and dirt. A tom telling me that I wasn't allowed to hunt? I would bury his tomhood where I usually make dirt." She spoke of such a graphic thought with relish, as though she looked forward to some fool trying to make the attempt. So saying, she stretched, and those powerful muscles slid beneath her glossy fur. "Listen to me very carefully. The world is much, much bigger than your clan. If you don't plan to go back to your Clan Rancor, you need to learn how to take care of yourself."

Silver's stomach gave a long, loud growl as the scent of the bird at Lightning's paws wafted past her nose.

"I'll make you a deal," Lightning meowed in amusement, "I'll share my meal with you, and teach you how to hunt. But you must pay very close attention, and you must be willing to learn fast. No complaining, no excuses. I'll help you… if only to give you a sporting chance, considering your handicap."

Silver swallowed thickly as those fierce blue eyes flicked to her swollen belly.

"I saw your attempts at hunting." Lightning meowed. "I assume you saw me hunting and wanted to try for yourself." She said it as though it was a statement, not a question, but Silver nodded anyway.

"A good start for a beginner. But you need to work on your balance. Grass is only slippery if you put your paws wrong or forget to balance your weight, even on less than four paws…" Lightning led the queen into the grass and demonstrated how to move through the blades, worming her paws between the thick blades down to the damp earth below, where she could grip.

The day was the longest, hardest day Silver had ever lived. By the time she brought down a rabbit that evening, her legs trembled with exhaustion and her head buzzed like a wasp's nest with all the things she had learned. And yet, all the mistakes she had made this morning, Lightning had corrected.

"You have a lot to learn," Lightning meowed, "But I think you can feed yourself now that we've awakened some of your hunting instincts."

The strange she-cat was utterly fascinating, simply by existing. She spoke of things no she-cat ever would have thought of; hunting, fighting off a badger with her brothers, tussling with them as she learned how to fight off her enemies. She seemed particularly fond of several terrible fights that had resulted in death.

That night, Silver slept badly. Those stories had turned her fascination into a sharp spike of fear. Frightened thoughts fluttered in Silver's head like trapped moths. But wouldn't come to the surface.

When Silver woke up the next morning from her fitful sleep, Lightning was gone. As she stared at the spot where Lightning had laid down, the thoughts finally surfaced.

_How did she know I was from Clan Rancor? I never told Lightning the name of my clan! Sky above me, is she a Red Claw!?_

.

Mist flicked his tail as his sister slid through the grass back to his side. "Giving her a sporting chance?"

"But of course! There's no point otherwise." Lightning paused and the pair watched as the queen straightened with alarm and immediately fled the spot where she had slept. "She has the instincts. And she worked very hard." Lightning murmured, peering over the long grass that concealed herself and her brother, "She will remember what she was taught when hunger drives her. Don't worry, we will keep an eye on her. If she starts floundering, we'll end our little hunt."

Mist's eyes all but glowed as he looked at the queen who gamely padded onward. "You're right of course. The thing she absolutely must learn right now is how to live alone. She must think for herself. She must put her brain to use. And she must learn her own limits. Without that, our hunt will be nothing but a disappointment, and it will set our plans father back than we can afford."

The two cats fell silent as they followed the queen. For two days, she fled along the course of the water, which had sunk beneath the earth. A gorge took its place, its steep sides blocking the queen from access to anything to drink for over half a day.

She was growing ever so slightly slower with each sunrise. Desperation had dragged her far, but she was still very pregnant, and weighed down by her kits. It was still early morning of the third day when it became obvious that Silver could not go any farther.

She was padding along at a steady pace, having devoured three mice for breakfast, when she suddenly jerked and a yowl of shock and pain burst from her jaws.

"Did a snake bite her?!" Mist gasped, starting to race forward.

Lightning darted in front of him and shook her head, her tail flicking over his mouth to keep him from calling out to the queen.

Silver panted, her eyes wide and confused; then another ripple rolled through her pelt, dragging a gasp from between her clenched teeth.

"There was no snake." Lightning meowed in an undertone. "It is time for her greatest battle yet. We will keep close, but she will not thank us for looming over her while she is helpless."

There was another pained yowl, and then Silver broke into a staggering run, aiming for a clump of trees father along the gorge.

Mist and Lightning skidded to a stop on shock and horror at a line that the queen had bounded across without stopping. A scent line! Silver was racing into the heart of another clan's territory!

.

The pain in her belly hit her in waves. By the time she staggered under the shade of the trees, they were unbearable. She half scrambled, half fell into a shallow scoop of earth beneath the protective branches of some sort of bush.

A screech of pain sent birds into flight above her, and a strange voice called, "What in the name of Starclan was that?!"

"It came from over here!" a tom's voice.

"Oh my… Whitebirch! Get Maplefur!" A sleek, gray she-cat appeared at the entrance to Silver's makeshift nursery. "Hey, hey, shhh. It's okay."

"Hurts…" Silver panted, her eyes slitted against the pain and the contractions.

"I know. I know it hurts." The she-cat mewed soothingly, easing into the shade with the frantic queen, "I had kits before too. No, no. It's too early to push. Just keep breathing. Deep breaths now; not those quick, shallow ones. That's right."

Under the guidance of the experienced she-cat, Silver began to calm down.

"What's this I hear about a rogue queen having kits?" scrabbling paws skidded on the ground as a tom ducked low and peeped into the shadows.

Silver sucked in a deep, horrified breath, "No!" She wailed, "No toms! Don't let him near me! He'll... he'll cull my…" another howl cut her off in mid sentence.

"This is Maplefur." The strange she-cat meowed, licking Silver gently between her ears, "He's our medicine cat, and he helps all of our queens handle giving birth. He would never harm you or your kits."

"I promise I only want to help," Maplefur purred soothingly, but he was forced to scramble backward as the delirious she-cat snapped at his encroaching face, lips drawn back from her teeth in a desperate snarl.

"Toms…" Silver moaned, "Don't let them find me…"

The two cats shared a dumbfounded expression before Maplefur murmured, "Well all right, I'll leave it to you then, Rainstar. I'll… I'll be out here if you need anything at all."

"Her nose is dry as dirt in Greenleaf drought. I bet she would appreciate a good drink." Rainstar offered diplomatically.

"Right…" The sound of the medicine cat's paws faded away in time to his rather dejected agreement.

"You've still got a ways to go. Keep breathing, and don't try to force this. They will come when the time is right." Rainstar stroked Silver's side with a gentle paw.

The queen merely whimpered. It seemed like an eternity passed for the two before…

"Rainstar? A whole bunch of us got moss and soaked it in water. It's in the dock leaf here." The leaf was very carefully nudged into the shade by Whitebirch, who did his best not to come into the queen's line of sight.

"Bless you all the way to Starclan at a ripe old age," Rainstar murmured, and gently squeezed water into Silver's mouth. The queen swallowed thirstily and gratefully as she continued, "The first kit is about to come, and there's not much else I can do."

At Rainstar's urging, Silver bean to push, and soon the first kit slipped out into the soft much.

"It's a she-kit!" Rainstar meowed, as much for Silver's sake as the clan members who were doubtless lurking outside with fascination. "A beautiful silver tabby. She'll gleam in the sunlight."

Rainstar promptly scooped up the kit and began to lick vigorously, drying her as quickly as possible before plopping her at her mother's side. With an eager, and strong squeak, the kit began to nurse.

"Here comes the next one!" Unbeknownst to Silver, practically the entire clan was ranged outside, craning forward for the slightest scrap of information from Rainstar. "Another she-kit!" Cheers from the clan nearly drowned out the description of, "dark silver, marbled tabby!"

Silver sank into an exhausted half-doze, curling protectively around the two tiny kits, murmuring over and over to them; "You're safe. I'll never let the toms get you. Never. Never."

Rainstar's pelt bristled. Just what had happened to this poor queen to make her so terrified of toms? She finally just shook her head. There was no way of knowing how terrible rogue toms were. But this brought up a problem; they had to somehow get this strange queen into the safety of the nursery without the warriors losing their ears.

With so few she-cats in the clan, it made moving all three impossible. How could…

"Rainstar? Would you give these to our guest please? It will make things better for every cat." Maplefur was suddenly at the entrance of the makeshift nursery, pushing a packet inside.

Borage… and a few poppy seeds.

"You read my mind," Rainstar purred.


	3. Chapter 3

Ghost slid from one patch of shadows to the next. He couldn't be spotted, not with his fur the way it was; and he knew how to move without sound. That left scent. And of course, that was why his fur was sticky with the resin of the pine trees that made up most of Clan Rancor and Red Claw territory. The sharp piney scent was the Red Claws' favorite mask for scent, which made it next to impossible for Rancor toms to catch them.

And today, he had a specific mission in mind.

He found his target, laying pensively in the sun, staring off into the distance without really seeing it. A melancholy expression made his whiskers droop.

There was no need to guess why he was alone, or why he looked resigned. He was expecting to hear from the Red Claws.

"Your thoughts betray you, Quickclaw."

The tom flinched, but to his credit, did not cry out. "I wondered when you would show up. I suppose Mist told you."

"He did." Ghost made himself comfortable on the far side of the rock. "He found your request intriguing. He agreed to spare her life, but we want to make an agreement with you. And extra special… agreement."

Quickclaw swallowed. Ghost's voice was still smooth, but it had become hard on the last sentence. Whatever the Red Claws were going to demand, they would not accept a refusal.

"What do you want?" he all but whispered.

"Your queens; the ones who are slated for culling. There are three that are nearly ready, aren't there? In half a moon, there will be more." Quickclaw quivered. Ghost made it a question, but it was obvious he knew _exactly_ what was going on in Clan Rancor at any given time. Ghost continued, "Their last kits will soon be old enough to no longer need them. You will bring them, one by one, to the Resting Place at dusk, just like your clan always does. From there, you will _not_ cull them. You will give them to us."

"I don't understand." Quickclaw meowed, "A bunch of old females in exchange for my sister's life? What good will they be to you?"

"That is for us to decide." Ghost meowed coldly. _And they are not as old as you think, foolish Rancor tom,_ he thought. Out loud he growled, "The first is supposed to be culled tomorrow evening. Make sure that it is your duty to do so."

Quickclaw murmured in agreement, and a heartbeat later he knew the Red Claw was gone. What could he do but obey? He was already a traitor to Rancor Law, and the Red Claws could get to him at any time if he dared refuse them. No matter where he turned, death was the only thing that awaited him.

On the appointed evening, the Rancor tom led the first she-cat to the Resting Place. The smell hit them both suddenly as the wind changed, and Evening gasped and choked at the stench.

It was a pit, lined with the bones and rotting carcasses of cats slain by Bane's command. Here, she-cats were brutally killed and simply kicked over the edge. Toms died in battle, and their bodies too were left here. If you were no longer any use to the clan, you were food for the carrion eaters. There was no honorable burial here and there were no sorrowful goodbyes to a beloved clan mate. It was the Resting Place, for according to Rancor Rules; "Rest when you are dead, as the dead have no other use."

Flies buzzed and swarmed so heavily here that their droning overwhelmed the sounds of prey beyond the pit. At a particularly loud cough from Evening, several crows took flight, cawing loudly. Something immense and black rose, unhurried, from the bottom and flapped its way skyward. A naked, red-skinned head was exposed to the air, and massive black wings caught the winds and soared, circling. Eyes as blank as a carcass observed the two cats from above. There was nothing but the smell of death here, and every slow flap of those great wings only stirred the smell around.

"Hurry it up then," Evening finally panted, "At least when I'm dead I will not have to smell this place."

"Enough. She-cats do not give orders to toms." Quickclaw growled.

"And what will you do if I don't shut up? Kill me?" Evening began to laugh, a bitter, angry sound. "I am already dead. There's nothing more you can do to me. Shall I simply leap off the edge and save you the trouble?"

"I do not believe that will be necessary." Ghost melted out of the shadows. "You have done your part Quickclaw. Now it is my turn."

Evening watched the Rancor tom turn away and pad off into the shadows before turning her green eyes to the Red Claw. "Oh ho! And here we thought that Rancor toms did the dirty work! Instead we're left to the 'mercy' of someone else." She took a breath and made a face. "Oh whatever, just hurry up with it already."

The massive shadow passed over them, and Evening flinched.

Still Ghost did not strike her down. Instead, he simply gazed at her with an expression so alien that Evening was having trouble deciphering it.

Finally, he meowed, "Come with me please. This is no place to have a proper conversation."

"But… that bird… and I'm to… aren't… aren't you here to cull me?" Evening reluctantly followed the strange tom, encouraged more by the fear of the massive black bird than the need to obey.

"He's only a vulture. Their kind are known for two things; patience, and eating carrion. As such, they don't attack strong, living creatures." Ghost led the bemused she-cat to a tall conifer. With his strong claws, he scraped at the bark. Something sticky and yellow immediately began to ooze.

"Rub yourself against this spot, so that the resin gets caught in your fur. It will help mask your scent." Again, there was that strange look in his eyes.

"Look, just answer me! Are you going to cull me or not? I'm not interested in playing games!" Evening planted her paws and glared into his eyes.

Ghost did not flinch, and his expression did not change. A fraction of a heartbeat later, Evening couldn't hold his gaze. She dropped her eyes, her anger and defiance crumbling to dust and an uncomfortable feeling swirling around inside her.

"No." His voice was soft, and that strange emotion in his voice made her uneasy. She couldn't stand up to it. All the horrible treatment at the paws of the Rancor toms didn't knock her off balance the way this strange tom did. "No, I'm not going to cull you."

His expression was…_gentle_. That was the word she had been trying to find. Tender. No Rancor tom ever looked that way at a she-cat. It made a battered, hardened part of her heart soften and flutter like a trapped moth. She felt vulnerable in a way that had never occurred to her before.

"Then… why are you taking me away?" She was startled to hear her voice turn soft, almost pleading for understanding.

"Want to know a secret?" Ghost didn't answer her directly.

"I... guess?"

"Hold up your paw, and flex your claws."

Evening blinked in confusion. She had never bared her claws in her life. Only toms did that. She obeyed slowly, still staring at Ghost.

A dark brown tom suddenly appeared from the bushes, his eyes glittering, "By the sun, and the moon. By the great ancestors above, and the blood that flows in your veins. You stand beneath the open sky and reveal your true self to all who would stand beside you. Evening, on this night, the dying sun gleams upon your claws. Tomorrow it will rise, and with it shall begin the birth of a new life for you."

He stood before her and pressed his paw pads to hers. "I, Otter in Darkness stand as witness to this day. Evening, from this day forward, you will be known as Evening Of The Raging Wind. Welcome sister, to Clan Red Claw."

The last beam of sunlight struck her paw; and her claws glowed a dark, cherry red.

.

"She will have had her kits by now." Lightning murmured as the sun slowly lifted above the horizon the next day. "And we know the clan has them. We can't get her out without knowing the lay of the land." The two met one another's eyes, before Lightning purred softly. "Be very careful brother. If I have to fish you out of there, I will never let you live it down."

Gently, he nuzzled his sister's cheek, "You take care of _your_self. Don't let these cats get a hold of you. If you get dumped in the nursery, I'll never let _you_ live it down."

She gave him a wiggle of her whiskers, and then turned serious, "Are you going in as yourself? Or are you going to play the Red Clawed killer?"

"A mixture, I think. I don't know that these cats are as bad as Clan Rancor, but I don't trust them to be good either." He curled his tail around his legs. "I need you to learn the lay of the land as well. We may need you if it goes sour."

"Then I will do what I do best brother," she murmured. "I will join you in a quarter of a moon, if things go well."

A heartbeat later and she vanished from sight.

Mist nodded to himself. His sister could read the wind like no other cat; she'd had to, in order to avoid being scented by Rancor Warriors. It was also how she tapped cats with the leaves. If she did what she did best, she could hide herself in clan territory without ever being found. And her skill at climbing trees was unparalleled.

Now…

Trotting to the scent line with his body held low, he scouted back and forth before choosing a spot where the shade of the trees crossed the scent line. No point in being uncomfortable while waiting. He would settle, and he would wait. Sooner or later, he would come into contact with this clan. And then… and then he would see just what this clan was made of. His lip curled briefly. And depending on how they behaved, he just might spill some blood too.

He didn't wait long. A patrol of toms trotted into sight, stopped to stare, then hurried over to meet him.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Spat a belligerent young tom.

"Eaglepaw." It was one word, but there was a lash of reprimand in that word. The young tom subsided.

The cat that looked steadily at Mist was much older; a sand brown tom with white paws and muzzle, "Stranger, this territory belongs to Skyclan. What brings you here?"

"My name is Mist Over Stone Teeth. I am searching for a dark silver queen with blue eyes. She would have just had kits. I've been sent to… find her."

Every cat in the patrol narrowed his eyes at Mist, much to his amusement. Even if he hadn't known that she was here, they had just given themselves away.

"Highleap?" Murmured one of the toms.

The senior cat that had been looking steadily at Mist flicked his tail, "This is not for me to decide. You may come with us, but you will be guarded the entire time. Behave yourself, and you won't lose any fur."

More amusement shot through the Red Claw. These cats seemed to feel safety in numbers; something that Clan Rancor cats had learned long ago was a lie. He could take all three of them, and even kill one or two to boot; he had been fighting a vicious battle for survival since he had been a kit, almost too young to hunt for himself. He knew all the dirty tricks and all the rotten moves that would ensure a win... at any cost. And, as his namesake warned, the edge of the gorge would serve for pitching an enemy off if he proved troublesome. But since they were doing what he wanted, spilling blood wasn't necessary… this time.

He had to admit, though, that the clan had chosen well for a place to live. Dens were set in the stone of the gorge. It would be easy to defend them, and enemies had to cross the stream to get to them in the first place.

As lithe, muscular forms slid out of the shadows, there were no females to be seen. Toms the lot of them, and his lip curled just a bit. Another Clan Rancor. Disgusting!

He needed to get Silver out of here as soon as possible.

"Highleap, who have you brought to the Skyclan camp?"

Mist's head whipped around. That voice! It was a…

A she-cat slid out of a den, joined by a tom who walked a step behind her, letting her take the lead.

"Rainstar." Highleap bowed his head in deep respect to the she-cat, leaving Mist speechless. "This is Mist Over Stone Teeth. He says she's looking for a dark silver queen."

To her credit, the female clan leader didn't bat an eye. "And why are you seeking this queen?"

Mist hastily gathered his wits. "I have been sent to find her, and her kits."

"_That_ much is obvious." She meowed wryly. Her dark green eyes appraised him thoughtfully. "Yet you do not answer my question."

Mist blinked blandly back at her. "That is for me to know."

"I see." She turned to the tom at her side. "Have the apprentices prepare a nest for our guest. He may stay, but he is to be under guard, and is to go nowhere alone. Until we know his true intentions, we cannot afford to trust him."

This was somewhat unexpected. He had expected to be driven off. Clan Rancor certainly would have. And the tom at her shoulder, someone called him Whitebirch, obeyed the she-cat without question.

Toms. So many toms. Even the curious apprentices that raced past him on their missions for bedding were toms. He had figured that all the she-cats were stuffed in the nursery, wherever that was, just like Clan Rancor. But here was a she-cat as clan leader, something no Rancor she-cat could ever dream of. Something funny was going on here, and he needed more information before he could act.

Highleap and Eaglepaw sat down just a little behind Mist, keeping an eye on him while the camp bustled into motion.

In short order, he was brought to a nest, thrown into comfortable shadow by the wall of the gorge and a few plants. It was, he had to admit reluctantly, quite comfortable. Again, he had not expected this.

A new tom sat down at the entrance to his nest to stand guard. Much to his amusement, the guard's back was to him. Either these cats were confident in their skills, something he could end with a deadly swipe of his paw, or else they were less hostile than Rancor warriors.

Since nothing more seemed to be expected of him, he watched the camp beyond his guard and tried to puzzle out how things worked here. Were females treated as equals here? If that was so, where were they? Surely they couldn't all be in the nursery with kits all at the same time, could they?

A small rustle made his ears twitch and his silver eyes flicked to the left to track the tiny movements of the brush. Finally with a little 'unh,' a dark brown she-kit squeezed into his prison and looked at him with friendly yellow eyes.

"Hi. I'm Petalkit. Soon to be Petalpaw," she chirped, not at all bothered by his strange scent.

"Petalpaw?"

"That's the name I'll get when I get to be an apprentice. What's your name?"

She said it so easily, as if it was a declaration that water was wet. He had to swallow before he could say "Mist over Stone Teeth. You can call me Mist."

"Mist? I like that name. Yeah, your fur looks like the mist that rises from the water in the morning." The she-kit tipped her head at him, her eyes suddenly penetrating. "Hmm… I like you."

Mist's mind went blank and he favored her with a slow blink. "You… what? Do you even know what I've done? How easily I could kill you before you clanmates could rescue you?"

"But you won't."

So confident! Didn't this silly ball of fluff know the meaning of fear?

"I won't? How do you know?" He reached out with a paw and flexed his gleaming red claws so close to her own paw, that his fur brushed hers.

She didn't even flinch. "Don't get me wrong. You're strong. You're dangerous. You are powerful and skilled. I bet your enemies learned really fast to stay away from you." She bent down and rubbed her cheek along his extended front leg. "But you've never hurt a kit in your life, and you've only ever killed because you've had to."

Mist's heart stopped, and a cold knot of fear tightened in his chest. _What in the…?_

"Oh please don't do that. I don't like the smell of fear. You smell like exotic woodlands and open fields. Your fear is covering it all up." She gave him a look with such limpid, sorrowful eyes that it startled a purr of laughter out of him.

She wiggled her whiskers at him and the fear eased. "I can see things about anyone I look at. I used it on this humongous dog once. My mother swore that she nearly lost a life from fear when I walked right up to him, but I knew he'd never hurt me. He just wanted his daughter back."

Mist was saved from having to comment by his guard's ears twitching. The clan cat whipped around with rather, Mist thought, admirable speed and gaped at the guilty faced kit crouching next to Mist. "Petalkit! Get out of there at once!"

"Oops. I guess I'd better go. I'm not really supposed to be in here you know."

"So it would seem." Mist murmured, his whiskers twitching.

She squeezed out, leaving him with even more to puzzle over than before. She-kits became apprentices? They learned alongside toms? It seemed like they were treated like equals here. But where were the others? Surely a clan couldn't survive with only one female leader and one she-kit… right?


End file.
